


Daymares

by castielslovesong



Series: A Pirates Life For Us [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Man cuddles, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Network, Nightmares, Protection, Slavery, Slaves, Trust, save the day, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielslovesong/pseuds/castielslovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know when you are awake and those bad dreams suddenly feel like a reality?<br/>Forget nightmares, it's daymares Dean's having. </p><p>Dean let his guard down to a complete stranger; Cas' beautiful toothy grin that rises to meet his eyes and deep blue oceans keep sweeping through his wall. But the instinct not to trust remains.</p><p>Another job without Sammy, free to be you and me, eh Cas. Dean thought, chuckling at his own joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daymares

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on like 3 fics and the only one I ever seem to update is this series hahaha!
> 
> So do we trust Castiel? Yes, no... Maybe, I don't know. 
> 
> I have all the plots lined up for the next works as well and if I wasn't super busy with school stuff, you would have the next chapter tomorrow! 
> 
> Pleeeeeeaaasseee Feedback. I want to know what you think, if you like, if you don't. Please. PLEASE. :3
> 
> Peace Out Bitches -xo

Staring at the map on Bobby’s desk, he twirled the penknife around the digits of his fingers, the tip grazing his knuckles, while he rested his chin on his other hand.

He had moved too quickly. This wasn’t... Wasn’t going to work. He’d just met Cas! How could he just drop the wall he’s built for 10 years in less than a month for a _Novak_?! And Cas had seen him naked, well his torso anyway – thank someone he hadn’t gotten his legs out as well, the scars are no worse but the tattoos don’t cover them as effectively. There was something niggling in his gut, the undeniable instinct that screamed at him to stop getting close to Cas. To stop letting that wall down. It was dangerous! Not to mention irrational considering who they both were.

That was it. He couldn’t do this with Cas anymore.

But he wants.

Dean Winchester, convicted pirate, merciless murderer, stone cold heart, _wants_.

And all that he’s ever wanted is walking around with permanently tousled, raven feathers for hair, bright blue oceans that stared down at him with acceptance and a (now covered) lean body that his fingers  physically ached to touch.

Awoken from his stupor by a prick in his finger, he watched as the crimson fluid dribbled down his calloused thumb. Watched as the droplet fell off the edge and splattered on Bobby’s map.

Frowning, he continued to sink in the thoughts of distrust in his new... What were they now? He shuddered at the word boyfriend; the Captain of the Impala does _not_ have a boyfriend. Partners is too generic. Eh, lovers?

Whatever the hell they were, he smelt a rat; his eyes squinting with focused effort, he sucked at the nick on his thumb.

“Erh, Dean? You haven’t sucked your thumb since we were kids, something you want to tell me about?” Dean’s gaze flicked up to see Sam, leaning in the doorway, looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“Sht up, btch,” Mumbling around his thumb, he swiped it out, inspecting it while Sam came over to the desk, “I cut it.”

“What’s going on with you and Cas?”

So no beating around the bush with Sammy, huh.

Proverbial moose in the room made the bull in a china shop look like an amateur. Sam would have noticed something. The only person who knew Dean better other than himself (and apart from Benny) was Sam.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Samantha.” Deflecting, he leaned back in the chair.

“You two stare at each other... A lot. I’m cool with it you know, you being into dudes.” There, planted on the 7ft giant grown man’s face, were puppy dog eyes. The hazel of Sam’s eyes was framed by his ridiculous hair and tiny pout.

“I’m bi Sam; I think we established that a long time ago, but thanks for your blessing or whatever.” He rolled his eyes and clicked his back as he stood. Staring at the coloured pins that littered the coast wasn’t going to magically reveal the location of Gabriel, or the slave master’s head base... It would be much simpler if they could just be summoned, Dean mused.

“That’s not what I mean, Dean,” Huffing, Sam walked round the desk to cut Dean off, “I know you like him, just be careful ok.” Dean said nothing, “Oh, and Bobby’s looking for you.”

Quickly making his way under Sam’s arm, he crossed through the yard and into the back of the Roadhouse. Once inside, he let a breath escape him. Sam’s right, of course. For now, he focussed on Cas’ figure, sitting bolt upright uncomfortably while Jo walked towards him with a handful of shot glasses. Observing from the sidelines, he watched as Jo forced him to play the drinking game with her; the delight that bloomed in her face when after 10 shots Cas swayed forward saying, monotone as always:

“I think I’m starting to feel something.”

With a shake of his head, he turned and trudged round the back of the bar to one of the rooms. He knocked on the door, rolling his eyes at the proudly nailed on sign ‘Dr Badass’.

“Yo Ash, is Bobby in there?”

“Course I am, idjit and I expected you to be, before I make my descent into Davy Jones Locker.”

“Yeah, yeah, what have you got?” Entering the room, he took the chair across from Bobby and Ash around another, much larger map.

_Seriously, we have more maps than a Congress._

**_Just a saying dude, chill._ **

“Well, based on the patterns we got goin’ so far, we’re betting there will be another warehouse at Fort Launderdale.” The table was surrounded by an army of empty liquor bottles, Ash finishing another and adding it to the ranks.

“What’s so special about Fort Launderdale?” Dean leaned forward so that his elbows rested on the edge of the map.

“Well, for starters, I got chatter that a while back some new guys just showed up. I figure, it’s a good place to start on your mystery tour of Novak’s and a shipment of slaves for auction is being held there.” Pushing the edge of his hat up, he gave Dean a meaningful look, “But you gotta be careful boy, now that Sam’s not huntin’ with you.”

“I can handle it, besides I got Cas now right?”

Ash remained silent.

Bobby eyed him sceptically, “Right.”

 

After assembling the crew and provisions, they set of just before dusk; Dean was grateful to feel the currents of the ocean beneath him, absorbing the calm that the sea owned like a drowning man to air.

He had his hands resting on the wheel, eyes closed when Cas materialised beside him.

“Hello Dean.”

Snapping open, his hand instinctively reached for his sword, before exhaling his breath and glaring at the man. “Don’t do that! One of these days I’m actually going to stab you.”

“You should sleep, Dean. This isn’t going to be an easy job.”

Dean didn’t actually want to protest; he was exhausted. However, that horrible sinking feeling was pooling in his gut... That’s either some misplaced arousal or his instincts are screwing with his thoughts again. He felt the tug of Cas’ hand on his own, allowing himself to be pulled, leading him to his quarters. There was no heat, no sexual intentions behind Cas’ movement. In front of him, Castiel removed his shirt and trousers, leaving him bare-chested in his shorts. Following suit, curiously keeping his gaze locked in blue, he removed some of his layers, leaving him in a thin t-shirt and cotton trousers.

Cautiously, he slid in beside Cas. He felt Cas shift beside him and tentatively laid down his arm. The man pounced at the opportunity and snuggled, fucking snuggled, into Dean’s side. Curse everything; it was the nicest thing he’s felt since his Mom’s voice lulling him to sleep. This was a whole new territory for Dean, the closest he’d come to sharing a bed was with Lisa. That didn’t end particularly well.

At some point, Dean must’ve actually fallen asleep. Honest to God, not fitful, restful sleep. Which is why, when he felt the erratic movements beside him, his eyes were open and scouring the area within seconds.

Cas was shaking in his sleep. His mouth twitched uneasily, mumbling incoherent words as his body folded up in himself. There was a fresh gleam of sweat, matting his dark hair. Reaching out, Dean’s fingers brushed against Cas’ face. Violently, he jerked back.

“Hey, Cas it’s me... Dean.”

“Get away Zach-“ Cas’ eyes threw themselves open in a harsh intake of breath. He panted, blue oceans probing the area for signs of threat, only to be transfixed mid-search in worried green pools. Again, Dean reached out, hand resting against Cas’ jaw. He leaned into the touch, deep breath exhaling cold onto Dean’s palm.

“Hey, what was that about?” His voice was soft in the darkness of the room.

“I... My old life, my uncle, Zachariah... He was not a nice man.” Cas closed his eyes, inhaling Dean’s scent, accepting the offer to move closer, to be held in strong arms; to be safe. “He used to hit me, when I disobeyed orders.”

Dean felt his heart clench. Suddenly, his ribs were packed too close to his lungs, his stomach filled to full, and bile rising in his throat. Swallowing his anger, he pushed out the distrustful thoughts too, closing his arms around Cas, tilting his head to rub it against the soft hair of the man nuzzling his neck. He was all too familiar of nightmares – why do you think he avoids sleep at all costs? Sleep leaves you vulnerable. It allows the subconscious to override the safety parameters put up when you’re awake.

A day and a half later found them standing on the jetty. They surveyed the area, spreading out across the coastal town to gather intel while the crew awaited orders from the coastline. This was usually Sam and Dean’s role, but it looks like it’s up to _Cas_ and Dean now.

From what they gathered it was the warehouse at the north end of the port... Cas followed Dean’s lead, pointedly ignoring the poster with Dean’s face on as they passed a pub.

“Damn it, they just can’t get the nose right!” Unfazed, Dean ripped the sheet from the wall and screwed it into a ball. He tossed it at Cas, who allowed it to hit him and drop pathetically to the floor. “I’m starting to think Chuckles has a better sense of humour than you,” he gestured to a drunken black man, slumped in a bench to the side of the doorway.

Recognition hit Castiel like a slap to the face. Dean had walked on, but turned, eyebrows and stare silently asking in question.

“I’m going to see if anyone here knows anything, go get the crew Dean.”

He hesitated. Castiel watched the physical indecision that swept over Dean’s body; he thankfully gave a short nod and carried on his way on those gloriously bowed legs.

“Uriel,” he hissed once Dean was out of view, “What are you doing here brother?”

The ‘drunken’ man sobered up instantly. “You had not reported, we got wind of Winchester’s movements from Samandriel. He is your inferior Castiel. What is going... oh. You like the Winchester mud monkey.”

“You are close to blasfimy.”

“He is a pirate!”

“And a good man.”

They were face to face, angrily staring each other down.

“You ought to be careful, getting this close to your charge Castiel.”

“I am no longer part of The Enochian.”

“Michael’s order still stands.”

To that Castiel had no answer. He may not be part of the ship, The Enochian, or the movement, Heaven, but he was still a Novak. Michael was still his brother. Then again, so was Lucifer. He reasoned.

Without another word, he turned his back on Uriel and went in the direction Dean had gone in. Being able to choose is... Tiresome. He is used to taking orders, the chain of command is simple then and he wouldn’t have to concern himself with confliction in his mind.

The crew were gathered in two teams, one to infiltrate non-violently and extract the prisoners, the other to create a diversion. He was part of the extraction; it would seem Dean is always intent on taking the hardest fall, along with others who don’t have much to lose.

“On me,” He kept voice low, Dean waited at the entrance of the make shift auction house for his crew to be ready and drew his gun. Deep breath. Kicking in the door, he shot 3 times into the air flustering the people inside and raising shouts from the many angry looking rich folk. It made him sick. These people, no better than anyone else, truly believe that because they own money, they have any right over the life of another human being.

The team who came with him began vandalising the room, forcing the people into the centre while Dean took his place on stage. Angrily, he pushed down the chain master, gently lifting the cowering slave to his feet. The boy, no older than 12 or 13, looked up at him with wide hopeful eyes. He grinned. It’s all a show. A façade. Eyes scanning for Ash, he saw the man tap his wrist twice. Good, everything was going to plan.

 

They heard the door break. Turning the last piece of thin wire, the lock on the cells clicked and the door swung open. Cas took on one of the guards while Jo knocked out the other. Pam, followed by Kevin, Garth, Ava and Vic began to round up the huddled bodies and lead them to the waiting boats. Unfortunately, once they were back stateside in Tortuga, Missouri is the only one who can really help them.

Most of these people don’t have hope left, let alone a home.

Fist connecting with the bone in the man’s face, Cas checked Jo for time. She tapped her wrist once.

 

He looked at Ash and nodded. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, as pleasurable as your disgraceful company has been, we must regrettably bid you farewell. Learn a lesson from this,” Committing all of their faces to memory, he tried to look as threatening as possible (let’s face it, he’s a _pirate_ wielding a _gun_ with a room full of _hostages_ ), “I don’t want to see ANY of you in a place like this again. Team Free Will.”

“Free Will!” His crew hollered in unison. Scampering away, the horde left as swiftly as they had come.

Their shadows chased down the beach, flickering like flames across the golden sand.

Today had been a win; he looked over the mass of filthy bodies sprawled across the hammocks in the crews sleeping quarters. Back on deck, he watched as some of the older ones continued to eat and drink, the knowledge of freedom knocking out most of the children.

His eyes met Cas’ across the guests.

"No word on Gabriel then?"

Cas shook his head, dissapointed, though his face remained emotionless.

"But we'll find him." The reassuring slight smile and unwavering stare was easily reciprocated. 


End file.
